Decisions, Decisions
by hippiechick2112
Summary: A little encouragement goes a long way. It's just up to Carter to take it or leave it. A Stalag 13 short story narrated by Colonel Michalovich.


**Decisions, Decisions**

**Note and Disclaimer:**** I'll be saying this every time. I don't own the characters to ****Hogan's Heroes****. I would like to thank those who have created this series. However, the character I have created in this series, Colonel Michalovich, belongs to me, so if you want to use her in any story you wish to write, please email me with permission first. Thank you!**

I had a chance to move, but there wasn't any way that I could. There was too much danger to it and a risk attached to it. My back was against no wall and there was no way out this time. I couldn't take ANY opportunity to run.

I stood still, breathing in the dust and grime around me as I kicked it up again, impatient to get on with this. Coughing, I crouched down, hiding myself and settling with the clouds of thick filth as if it was the punishment I had to face for doing such. The hot German sun, beating down its country before winter settled in, made me sweat profusely. We loved the relief from the cold, it being May and all.

However, I, like everyone else, wanted to take the uniform off, but I didn't dare. I had to keep my integrity and was going to stick to the mission before me. I also had to stick with the rules. I knew the rules. I knew what I must and must not do. I did my part of the game.

After all, it was all up to Carter now. All he had to do was hit it home and we could come out scot-free. We could prove ourselves for once. Rob didn't have to tease me anymore about not being able to command a bunch of men in a simple matter such as this.

I looked to Kinch at my left. He nodded his head to me, with sweat beads pouring down his face, thinking about what Carter needed to do. The odds were against us. _Come on, Colonel Michalovich, we need this or we're toast_, his face said to me. _Carter is either gonna help us or hinder us. We've trained him the best we could, but now, he needs to prove himself._

I knew what he meant. I had been training Carter for this moment and he could screw it up any moment now. Rob had thrown him test after test and after four attempts (with Olsen calling each shot in either direction), Carter _still_ had not managed to hit the damned ball. He needed another chance before this was over and I was, again, proven wrong.

Rob was in no hurry. After all, he thought that he was going to win this. "Are you ready, Carter?" he called out to him, smiling about it. I knew his thoughts about this. I knew him too well. _Easy prey_, he was probably thinking. _It could be an easy victory._

Smacking his left gloved hand with his right knuckles, the white sphere in those hands, Rob turned to make his move. Newkirk, watching from his position across the field from me, closed his eyes (whether it was from the possible upcoming events or from the heat, I could not tell). Kinch had sighed and wiped his forehead. He, as well as Newkirk, didn't want to see this happen again.

"Come on, Carter, you can do it!" I yelled from my position. He needed the encouragement.

"Interference! Interference!" Men from Rob's side had yelled in reply. They didn't want to hear my words anymore. I had said enough before the start of the game. I had said enough encouraging words to the team to last a lifetime. However, Carter needed it more, or so I had thought.

"Oh, come on, guys, we all know the outcome to this." Rob smiled again, thinking that he had it in the bag. However, I knew differently. I had some hope in Carter. No matter how many times he could mess something up, he still had the decision to make: to try and work harder at it or to give it all up and let Rob win. And I knew that he would choose the former. I knew Carter too well.

_Ah, decisions, decisions…what will Carter decide?_ I thought as I shielded my eyes from the sun. _Will he do well?_

I watched carefully within the shade my fingers gave to my eyes. I watched the action, swift and sure. Rob had wound back, his legs in a mimic from the people he had watched years before, and swiveled his body. His right hand moved backwards, quickly shooting forward as the left moved backwards. The white sphere from his right hand, a blur, moved with such speed that I couldn't tell what was going to happen next. I tried to keep on watching, but like Newkirk, I closed my eyes with my fingers still keeping the sun out of them. I didn't think that I wanted to see what was going to happen next.

My fears were dashed within a few seconds. A satisfying boom sounded in my ears and the white ball finally flew over heads, landing over the fence, where we could not go. It made happy to hear it all, finally. I waited so long for it to happen! I didn't care what happened next.

"Yes, Carter!" I yelled as I ran. I ran with a greater speed than anyone else. With Kinch, Newkirk and Carter behind me, we won. We had the motivation. All four of us ran for the fourth plate in the field and won it for our team. Olsen counted the people running from one position to the next and announced it to the men there. We had won!

Rob watched everything with his mouth open, an O shaping it. I could have laughed at him as I ran to the last plate –luckily, I didn't feel like it – and boasted that I succeed in something that day. However, I didn't think that he would expect to be pitching in a _baseball_ game where the losing team was going to win.

After all, my team had been losing since the challenge was set out the month before. Winning so many times, I didn't think Rob expected Carter to come out like that and win it with bases loaded, two outs, two strikes and two balls. Rob was good at baseball. He had won too many times. And we had taken it home. We had scattered his ego.

The men on our team cheered. Rob's team, who had been anticipating another victory, moaned but congratulated us, and the players, as they came up from their seats next to Barracks 8.

Kinch and Newkirk were also congratulating Carter. It was him, after all, that had gotten us out of this mess and helped us to beat the other team. We were down two points in the ninth inning and were the last team up to bat.

I went up to Carter as I looked on, with glee, on the team. "Good job, Carter," I said to him. "I knew that you could do it."

"Thanks, Colonel Michalovich," Carter replied to me. He was finally hearing my words of approval before the men crowded before him.

I smiled and crossed my arms. I basked in this victory before a familiar hand rested on my shoulder.

"How did you do it?" the bass voice asked me.

I turned around to waiting arms and had them around me within seconds. "I had some faith in the matter and rooted them on," I replied. "I wanted them to know that, no matter what, we would somehow defeat you guys and come out like this. Carter did a good job."

"He usually comes out good," was the response back. I heard a sigh.

That voice – Rob, of course – startled me again when it was asked, "Do you want another game?"

"Huh?" I was confused. I didn't think I heard right.

"Best two out of three?" Rob asked, smiling as he looked down on me.

"Well, if you're ahead with the wins, I guess another game won't hurt," I said slowly. I was up to another game. I felt up to _anything _after that.

"Let's go tell the men," Rob said, breaking the embrace and calling out to his men.


End file.
